


the truth is, I'm a runaway

by clytemnestras



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, Polyamory, Road Trips, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 10:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: They leave town on a Sunday, with the morning sun lighting up the road like a wildfire.





	the truth is, I'm a runaway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [happyg_rl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyg_rl/gifts).



> the working title of this fic was "gone fishin'" because that's the kind of person I am.
> 
> for the [ficathon](https://clockwork-hart1.livejournal.com/33494.html) which is very much open for participation
> 
> title lifted from 'runaway' by empires

They leave town on a Sunday, with the morning sun lighting up the road like a wildfire. 

 

It is her idea. Rey wraps herself in swathes of knitted fabric before the sun rises, packs up anything she might call essential (that is, two photographs in a wallet, a water bottle, a second water bottle filled with gin and a shoulder bag full of protein bars), and bikes to Finn’s place in the still-dark of four AM. The breeze is as welcoming as the plant life it causes to flicker and wave her along the smaller roads in town. The student places tend to be along the outskirts, cheaper that way, and less bothersome to the locals. It's why she always chooses to ride up to his place, to wander through the roads she hasn't visited since her school holidays, smaller now, but no less influencing over the weirdness in her belly.

 

When she parks up, it's easy to find his window, even in the pre-dawn twilight - drawn violet curtains stand out among standard issue grey blinds. No one could dissuade him from the colour.

 

Rey throws pebbles at his window, like a character fallen out the back of a Victorian children’s novel, because her phone is lost somewhere between the uninhabitable sofa in her cousin’s flat and the freeway, and because his college roommates once wrote her a very strongly worded note for waking them up during the ungodly hangover hour of ten am. Three pebbles in, Finn sticks his head out of the window, eyes as tired, light-fearing slits and waves her up forlornly. 

 

They leave ten minutes and one freshly washed face later, a matched set of conspiratorial grins bright in the morning gloom. 

 

The ride to Poe’s garage is languid against the backdrop of violet sky and their lines are well rehearsed. When Poe comes out, he is cleaning his hands, already grease-slick, squinting against the oncoming dawn. He smiles at them and it’s easy as breathing - anything they ask, he’ll say yes. 

 

*

 

They take his car, the battered one that he and Rey have been labouring over since balmy june, but Poe kicks his feet up in the back seat and declares himself permanent passenger. The fractured thumb and bruised wrist are almost an excuse, but moreso is the desire to let the world happen to him for a little while, without the simmering rush of the engine fueling his adrenaline habit.

 

His apprentice has fine enough control. Rey likes the driver's seat. It smells intoxicatingly of gasoline and sawdust, earthy things no sickly air freshener could beat. Even more, she likes the way a moving engine feels under her hands. Beside her, Finn’s fingers twist absently at the plastic radio dials, his attention stolen by the wide open road.

 

“Man, cities… I love Chicago, but it doesn't have this kind of quiet.” He’s transfixed by the emptiness of the road. By the little patches of encroaching wildlife along the asphalt. 

 

A mile or so out of town a deer darts across the road, blinking disgruntledly at them, and then at the low sun, as if wondering what people were doing in his realm at that time of the morning.

 

Finn's hand shoots out to squeeze Rey’s shoulder, and his voice gains momentum on a sharp intake of breath. “Holy shit, did you guys  _ see  _ that?”

 

Poe and Rey share a  _ look  _ in the rearview. 

 

Laughing, Poe gently eases Finn's grip away from the meat of Rey’s bicep and leans forward so each of his hands can squeeze Finn's broad shoulders. “Yeah, city boy, we saw. A whole bunch of them live in the woods back there.” Slowly, Poe starts to knead his fingers into the muscle, feeling the tension begin to give way beneath his hands. “Hey,” he says in a soothing voice that fits alarmingly well with the indie rock song Finn's fingers seemed to settle on. “If I - we - tell you little things about the country, you can talk to us about your history class.”

 

Finn perks up instantaneously, rendering the massage rather pointless as he giddily stumbles over the intricacies of World History 102, whilst Arctic Monkeys soundtrack the morning giving way to noon.

 

*

 

_ On his first semester, Finn’s engine whimpers and burns out and he ends up stuck somewhere outside the main part of town, homesick and slightly defeated. He waves around at the passing cars begging for help when a sweet older lady hands him the card for Dameron Mechanics. She tells him Dameron’s son is masterful, and he hazards a call. _

 

_ He's surprised, then, when an orange tow truck swings around the corner driven by a girl with grey splotches of oil on her cheeks. _

 

_ “What did you do to her?” She asks, before she's half way out of the door. The accent surprises him again, and Finn is not entirely convinced the town isn't some kind of bizarre Twin Peaks deal where he'll just be expected to roll with contradiction. _

 

_ “Are you, um, Poe?” he hazards, holding out a hand. Dumb question. Except a guy in his history class is named  _ Kylo _ , so at this point he’s open to anything. _

 

_ She laughs, like he's said something endearingly dense. “I'm Rey,” she says, holding out a hand with three beige band aids on it, and well, that was exactly the kind of thing he was expecting. “I’m the magician’s apprentice.” _

 

_ He holds out his own hand and takes her tightly. “I'm Finn,” he says, “And I have no idea what I’ve done to the car, please help me.” _

 

_ She laughs again, and squeezes his hand  “Let's see what we can do.” _

 

_ It takes two hours, and she laughs like she's charmed by his constant bewilderment at his own car. He nearly deafens her when he leans on the horn whilst checking the engine would start, and she gets him back by pretending to spill gasoline on his suit jacket which makes him laugh so loudly it sends a couple of birds fleeing from a cherry blossom tree.  _

 

_ By the time she's done she's stripped to her tank top and her hair is frazzled with sweat. He is somewhat fascinated by the muscles in her shoulders as she works, and if she catches him staring she doesn't mention it. _

 

_ “If there's ever anything else,” she says, grinning and wiping her brow, “Just call.”  _

 

_ She holds out her hand again, and since it's the longest conversation he's had that's not been with a professor, he sweeps her into a quick but crushing hug.  _

 

_ “Thank you,” he says to her hair. “You saved my life today.” _

 

_ “Any time.” _

 

_ He waits two days before conjuring up a reason to call again. He unscrews the gas cap and hides it in his bag, then leaves another message at the mechanics. _

 

_ He rushes downstairs when he spots the big orange truck roll along the avenue, trying to tuck his grin away somewhere.  _

 

_ He's not quite downstairs by the time the truck stops, so he’s duly shocked by the alarmingly pretty, dark haired  _ boy _ waiting for him. _

 

_ “Hi,” he says. “I’m Poe. Rey told me you were clueless in the most delightful way when your name flagged up.” He rests his elbow on the hood of the car. “What's up with her now?” _

 

_ “Why do mechanics call cars 'her’?” Is the only thing he can come up with to say that isn't,  _ oh god, oh god, oh god.

 

_ Poe laughs. “They're not all 'her’s. There are a couple of fellas out there. This little lady just isn't one.” He strokes the car with the hand resting there, and winks at Finn. _

 

_ That's it. Game over. _

 

_ “There's nothing wrong with the car,” Finn blurts. “I just, uh, wanted…hmm.” _

 

_ Poe just hums and purses his lips. “She can have that effect.” _

 

_ And, oh, stupid, stupid, Finn says, “You're not so bad yourself.” _

  
  


*

 

Rey turns them into a diner around four pm, when Poe is sick to death of power bars and Finn is edging over to more than tipsy on the gin. She takes pains to warn both of them she doesn't clean up anyone's vomit but her own. Both men frown at the picture of scrambled eggs proudly displayed on the cover of the menu.

 

They all order milkshakes, though Rey also orders a cappuccino and pawns the last third of her tall glass of chocolate on the boys, and they both pretend to enjoy an exceptionally bitter shared mug of black coffee. By the time she’s on her second slice of pie (and if the states excels in one area besides boys, then it's peach and apple pie), Poe thinks to ask what they should probably have planned ahead.

 

“Where exactly are we going?”

 

Rey glances up over the lip of her coffee cup. “Oh, home, I’d say.”

 

Finn chokes on a mouthful of vanilla milkshake. “Last I checked you couldn't drive the Atlantic.”

 

Rey tips her head back and laughs. “No, silly. Home isn't a place. It's a state of mind. Somewhere that has the same warmth and comfort and familiarity as your old bedroom, you know…” She gestures vaguely at the grubby window.

 

Finn looks to Poe for a reaction but is met with a smile of mild amusement. He sighs. “I always thought home was the awesome place I can keep as many suits as I want.”

 

Rey takes that to note he’s still displeased that she vetoed the jewel green suit he had begged for - wholly impractical for the initial bike ride or days in a cramped car. She's perfectly fine in her sweats and tank top, the wool wrap for a cardigan and a blanket in one, and she does see why he can't be either. Finn pouts and steals a forkful of pie.

 

Poe swipes it before it reaches his mouth.

 

They set off again, the waning sun charting their efforts.

 

*

 

By the time they find somewhere to park up and watch the sunset, Finn is in the backseat, nestled in the vee of Poe’s legs, head tipped back onto his shoulder. Rey has her feet up on the dashboard, watching the way Finn's features soften in the rearview as Poe runs his hands down his side's, settling at the top of his thighs.

 

Finn tips his head back and sighs, mouthing softly at the sharp line of Poe's jaw. Smiling at them in the mirror, Rey loosens her hair from its bun and shakes it out, letting her limbs go fluid. This is her favourite part, when they can relax into themselves and each other. She turns so she can watch when Poe takes Finn's face in his hands and claims his mouth in the kind of soft, aching kiss that makes her legs kick drum where they're stretched on the passenger seat. 

 

She inhales when they come up for air, swims in the decadent imagery they make, like a renaissance painting of Grecian lovers. (They're both rubbing off on her, putting words and images in her head that never used to live there. She loves it.)

 

Finn smiles at her dizzily and asks her if she wants a kiss. 

 

She shakes her head. “I just want to… see, for a while.” Her voice is a whisper, coming not from her throat but a wanting part of her hidden in the depths of her chest.

 

Poe reaches out and brushes her hair behind her ear, and it makes her skin flush warm, her eyes dip low. “Are you sure we can't tempt you?”

 

Finn’s fingers lace with Poe’s on her cheek whilst his mouth resumes its path along Poe's jaw and the sharp line of his throat. She can feel their fingers twitch when he gets to somewhere sensitive.

 

“You're incredibly tempting.” She purrs it, which is surprising, because no sound that deep or wanting has ever come out of her before. It makes Poe's eyes turn dark, far deeper than she's ever seen them. 

 

“The girl knows what she wants,” he tells Finn, squeezing their entwined hands and exhaling heavily. “Come here, he says, and pulls their hands away gently so he can dispose of Finn's t-shirt and feel along the ridges of his spine.

 

There's not a lot of sound, just breaths, some slow like whisky and others sharper, like the air being pushed from their lungs. Poe lowers the seats when it gets too cramped for the tangle of limbs, and Rey climbs over the back so she can touch them a little, push the hair away from Poe's face so she can see it in all its glory, wipe away the sweat collecting on Finn's temples. He blinks up at her like he's never seen a girl before and she so desperately wants to haul him up and spread him out and  _ feel  _ so he knows what it's like when eyes do that to her. But there is time. Now, with her skin quivering with her pulse, and warmth pooling in her stomach, she wants to see them unbidden.

 

Poe curls his hands around Finn's hips like he knows them, like he's always known them, which makes it embarrassing when Finn curls his fingers in Poe's hair and immediately loses his grip because his hands are so sweaty. Rey takes his hands, holds them in hers and eases one around to cup the back of Poe's head, just to stroke the skin there and create another point of contact.

 

Curled up between him and the door, she presses her forehead into the side of his and they breathe in heavily and quiveringly together.

 

The sun is sinking low over the edge of the earth and spreading a deep red across the sky by the time Finn manages to twist around and kiss her. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her eyelashes leave shadows fanning across her cheeks, so he has to kiss each one, and then the petal of her lower lip until she slowly sighs and opens for him, all the restraint easing out of her body.

 

He loves the way she kisses, sometimes featherlight and sometimes starving, but always certain of what she wants. There is no hesitation in her whole being. Poe curls up along his back, wandering hands chasing the sweat on his chest and it's far too much for Finn to take, but he wants it all anyway. He leans into the backrest for a moment, and leaves them facing each other.

 

Their hands fall, and their eyes fill with something like shyness. He is eternally smitten.

 

“You need to kiss,” he tells them, eyes brightening again. “Exactly the way you would kiss me.”

 

Poe moves first, again cups her cheek and pulls her closer so their breaths intermingle. He mouths something Finn cannot read, and in the pause Rey surges forward and kisses him like she wants to take him apart and learn how he functions. Poe's hands slip down from her throat to down her neck, skirting quickly across her chest to rest at her waist. His hands nearly encircle her.

 

“God,” Rey mutters, smoothing her hands up and down Poe’s thighs.

 

He grins at her. “Don't flatter me,” he says, and both of them laugh for long enough to forget where they are.

 

Finn, though, can't forget. He kisses Poe again, to quiet him and to indulge in the feeling that stubble leaves in his cheeks, like his skin is warm and glowing. Then, he slowly crawls down Rey's body, kissing the corners of her scarred kneecaps, then the sensitive skin of her inner thighs so she's quivering where she's pressed up against the door.

 

She nods to him very slowly, like all her muscles are encased in honey, and closes her eyes as he leans in.

 

*

 

In the morning, Rey turns into the first dinner they come across, and Poe complains about the delicate lining of his stomach.

 

She and Finn both pelt him with packets of sugar until he cries uncle. Each one of them, when the waitress takes their orders, charms her with their bedhair and their smiles. She's young, early twenties, maybe, and has the glossiest dark hair. It's easy to get smitten under the dawn light, when the world is still pink and candied. Her name tag says  _ Rose _ , and Finn doodles one absently on a napkin as they talk. They're the only people in the place, and therefore, the most interesting company.

 

She asks them, when the last of the toast has disappeared and the tea and coffee is cool enough to drink what they do.

 

Poe says, “I’m a drag racer.”

 

Finn says, “I’m a small time model.”

 

Rey says, “Oh, I’m a mechanic,” and finishes the crossword from the two days old paper they found in the booth. 

 

(Only partial lies. White ones. Tiny facets of them to leave behind. Rey finds the concept utterly absurd. There's nothing in particular else she’d rather be.)

 

She's the one who hands Rose the napkin. It has the number for the mechanics’ on it.

 

*

 

Midday, on the second day of freedom, Poe asks Rey to stop the car on an empty road. 

 

“Those are perfect clouds,” he says. “We cannot let them pass without thoroughly studying them.” Poe claps Finn on the shoulder. “Come on, professor.” He eyes Rey in the rearview and points at her with his pinkie. “You too, intern.”

 

There's a blanket in the trunk, the same one they had all curled under during the night with the seats reclined and their heads pillowed on one another's shoulders, Rey’s knitted wrap warming their feet. He spreads the blanket out and lies down in the centre, waiting for the others to curl around him.

 

Quietly, into the space between Poe’s ear and neck, Finn asks “What do you see?”

 

Just as quietly, on the other side of Poe’s body, Rey replies, “What  _ don't _ I see.”

 

It is a very long time, between the drifting whiteness of a broad starship and a very tiny peach-tinted silhouette before another car comes by.

 

*

 

Wearing a pair of sunglasses she stole from Finn's bag, Rey stops the car and takes the key out of the ignition, staring out into the nothing of the road. Without looking away, she drops the key into Finn's lap and releases her seatbelt.

 

“So,” she says, turning to face him. She stares over the top of the glasses. “Where are we going now?”

 

Poe, from the backseat, half dozing with her wrap for a pillow says, “Maybe a better question would be, ‘where are we now?’”

 

Rey doesn't say anything, just smiles and climbs over the gearstick to land in his lap. His arm wraps around her waist until it feels something like comfortable. She puts Finn's sunglasses on him whilst Finn gets situated in the driver's seat. He looks rather dashing in them. 

 

“What part of the west coast has the best view of the stars?” Finn asks, and turns the key

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me on tumblr [@bohemicns](https://) if you feel so inclined


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